9 hours ago
When her hand slipped into his, he responded naturally, easily, his fingers curling around hers like it was a gesture he’d made a thousand times before. Maybe he had. That was the thing about Ezvin. He made every gesture feel genuine, and maybe most of them were. Her hand was cold in his, but not uncomfortably so. He gave her hand the gentlest squeeze. Just… an acknowledgment.
“You liked it,” he said softly, not asking but acknowledging. He gave a small nod. “Good.”
He felt the flicker when she’d said it. A stirring in the quiet gravity of her honesty. He could tell she wasn’t ashamed. But he felt something twist behind his ribs anyway. A twinge of guilt, maybe. And here she was, offering something that felt weighty, and he’d nearly waltzed past it on his own agenda. He held her hand tighter.
He turned his eyes back to Cadence. Her scarf tugged tighter around her neck, her free arm wrapped across her middle. The cold was creeping in again, just enough to make the breath between them visible. He leaned slightly, lowering his voice.
“Alright, Midwinter Mystic,” he said gently, with that teasing cadence she’d come to recognize as his way of softening things when the emotions became too real. “Let’s get you out of the cold before you turn into a marble statue yourself.”
With a final glance at the angel, he gave her hand a small tug and began walking slowly back toward the doors of The Nest, her fingers still folded into his. The silence between them was peaceful. Familiar.
“You liked it,” he said softly, not asking but acknowledging. He gave a small nod. “Good.”
He felt the flicker when she’d said it. A stirring in the quiet gravity of her honesty. He could tell she wasn’t ashamed. But he felt something twist behind his ribs anyway. A twinge of guilt, maybe. And here she was, offering something that felt weighty, and he’d nearly waltzed past it on his own agenda. He held her hand tighter.
He turned his eyes back to Cadence. Her scarf tugged tighter around her neck, her free arm wrapped across her middle. The cold was creeping in again, just enough to make the breath between them visible. He leaned slightly, lowering his voice.
“Alright, Midwinter Mystic,” he said gently, with that teasing cadence she’d come to recognize as his way of softening things when the emotions became too real. “Let’s get you out of the cold before you turn into a marble statue yourself.”
With a final glance at the angel, he gave her hand a small tug and began walking slowly back toward the doors of The Nest, her fingers still folded into his. The silence between them was peaceful. Familiar.